


Paradox II

by Fanfic_Lover_9



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Romance, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-09 16:31:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7809049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fanfic_Lover_9/pseuds/Fanfic_Lover_9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is in reference to "Paradox" which explains the confusion of Sansa and the personality of Lord Baelish. This story follows Sansa in a wake-like dream that gives her clues of how to deal with her biggest dilemma in reality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Answered Prayer

Sansa Walked about the snowy grounds of Winterfell. Every now and again, she would catch sight of Petyr Baelish and ask herself the same questions that she had been asking herself, “Does he really love me? Can I trust him? Is he really here to help? Or is he just in it for himself?”  


She had already found him to take his own interest over others, something that didn’t sit well with her. She paced and paced with thought, wandering the grounds until her ever wandering feet brought her to the Gods woods. Once she had snapped back into reality, she found herself facing the old wierwood tree. She had told herself and others that she had been done with prayer. But for this one time, only one time did she speak a prayer. A whisper it was, not only a few formulated thoughts in her head, “Please, I want to know who he is. I want to know if I can trust him. I want to know if he intends to help me or hurt me,” a tear escaped her eyes.  


The suspense of the man with the mockingbird brooch haunted her. He controlled her thoughts. Nearly every thought she had revolved around him. She couldn’t find peace even when she was in the most peaceful scene at her home where she should feel safe. She got what she wanted, but she wasn’t finished getting what she wanted. “All I wanted was for him to show some compassion…and he didn’t. Even after all I’ve told him what happened to me,” again, a tear streamed down her cheeks and onto the bare roots of the weir wood. She pulled over her hood and walked back toward the castle.  


Later on that night, when she was in her room, sewing, she heard a ruckus going on outside beneath her window. She lifted quickly to see what was going on. It was a wildling and a northerner who had gotten into a fight. Jon attempted to break them up when a wildling threw a knife at the northerner, but meaning it as a warning. The knife, however, did find a target. Lord Baelish, who was standing idly by, was struck in his abdomen by the knife. Grunting a bit, be removed the dagger from his torso and remained standing. The horror of the sight struck something inside of Sansa. She darted out of her room and bolted down the stairway and out into the courtyard at the scene of the accident. She tried to control her emotion of panic when she saw the blood that was dripping from his fingers, to his robe, and unto the ground. She pushed men out of her way to make sure that Petyr was okay.  


Petyr, now dizzy from the pain and loss of blood, could scarcely make out what was going on around him. He heard many calling his name, ‘Lord Baelish…Lord Baelish…Lord Baelish.’ All at once, he saw a flash of unmistakable red. When she called his name, Lord Baelish, it was a soft and concerned call…more gentility to it than the men around him. “Sansa…” he spoke before he lost his balance. His body, having endured such impact before, prepared itself to fall unto a hard surface. When he lost consciousness, his body landed on something soft this time. Sansa caught him in her arms and let him fall into her lap.  


The men gathered around as they watched Sansa hysterically try to awaken Lord Baelish. “Petyr! Petyr!” she called his name without being asked this time. “Come on, please! Petyr!” she begged as she shook his inanimate body and pressed her hand to his wound.  


Another man came about and felt for a pulse in his neck, “He’s alive, my lady. He must be tended to at once.”  


“Well don’t just stand there telling me what should be done, do it! Send for Maester Wolkan and be quick about it!” she demanded. She fought back the stinging urge to cry. She did not want her actions to scream to everyone around her that her feelings for Lord Baelish—though uncertain—went fairly deep. When two men gathered his figure, she stood up, blood staining the lap of her dress and her hands.  


“Come, you should get cleaned milady,” beckoned a humble servant of the castle.  
Sansa didn’t cogitate what was being said to her. She was consumed with worry. The men who were involved in the fight gave their apologies. Whilst Jon and Tormund went to deal with them, Sansa impulsively followed the men who had taken up the body of her mentor.  


“My lady,” addressed one of the men to her once Petyr was rested on a bed, “You should not see such sights.”  


“I want to be here,” she spoke through a tight throat.  


“Yes, my lady.” The two men sent for the Maester.  


When Sansa was standing in the poorly lit room with his figure, she ventured dangerously slowly over to his bedside. Though she could barely see it, his slow breathing rose his chest only a little before setting again. She gazed at him and noticed that it was the first time she had ever seen him with his eyes closed for so long.  


Afraid that he might spring up at any moment, she carefully pulled apart his brooch. When he showed no sign of movement, she imitated her previous action by undoing his robes. She pushed the clothing back to get a better look at the fresh wound. She not only found the wound that she was expecting, but a rather older one. Old, but still visible to see. From the spot where she was looking, she noticed that the scar carried further upward. She pulled back even more of the cloth and opened her eyes in astonishment as she witnessed the scar carry from beneath his collar bone to a few centimetres below his navel. 

She was soon startled by a sudden ruckus of Maester Wolkan among other Maesters entering the room with things to patch up the dagger wound. “Excuse us, my lady, we must tend to lord Baelish immediately.”

“You can do that now, don’t worry about me, please.”

“As you wish.”

Sansa watched as they removed his robes completely; she watched as they cleaned his wound and wrapped his torso tightly. After a time, they had finished taking care of the wound and proceeded to exit. Maester Wolkan had sat a glass of milk of the poppy near his bedside, “He’ll need it when he wakes up. If he wakes up.”

“He’s going to wake up. He doesn’t give up on anything.” Sansa whispered, loud enough for the Maester to hear her. 

Maester Wolkan displayed a humble expression before asking, “Forgive me, my lady, if I may be so curious to ask if Lord Baelish is a dear friend of yours.”

“Why do you say that?” Sansa knew that Maester Wolkan was standing with the Boltons when she had first arrived at Winterfell and ought to have known that Petyr was her uncle. She was hoping that he was not able to sense her sincerity and concern in the manner of a lover rather than a niece.

“Well, this place is full of other lords and ladies and you’re the only one here.”

Sansa looked at the inanimate body of Lord Baelish before she turned to answer Maester Wolkan, “He’s my uncle.”

“Right.” He concluded before he left. 

Now it was just Sansa. After standing for so long, she pulled the chair from the study and sat it beside his bed. After she had taken a seat, she questioned herself, “What am I doing here?” She looked again at Lord Baelish and then to the scar on his chest. Though she chastised herself for thinking such tempting thoughts, she lost control of her impulse and brought her fingers softly to his skin. She had never felt him bare before. For someone who could be so cold, he was very warm. She moved her fingers from the tip all the way down. She couldn’t have even imagined how he managed to survive such an attack. Of all of the many stories that she had heard from him, she had never heard him mention anything about how he earned a scar. She rested her palm on the bandages the covered the rest of the scar as well as the new one. 

A few hours had passed. Within those hours, she had asked a hand maiden to retrieve for her a needle and thread. From then on, Sansa stitched and stitched. It was odd enough that the room was quiet though at the same time she was not alone. For once, she did not see a smile ease across his face, his eyes flicker with whichever person he was at the time, or hear this rough voice as he spoke either truth or lies. 

After a time, her hands had begun to tire. All at once, she became dizzy. She knew not why. She felt that she was drowsy; however, it was not the sort of dizziness that indicated drowsiness. It was the same kind of drowsiness she felt when she had passed out after watching her father die before her. Soon, everything went dark. Her body, now limp with unconsciousness, drooped onto the bedside with her temple landing beside Petyr’s shoulder.


	2. The Boy and the Man

It was dark. Very dark. And cold. Damp feeling even. Where was she? She had no idea. She felt herself to be asleep. At the same time, she felt herself to be awake. She was somewhere between the world of sleep and consciousness. Little by little, her surrounding began to lighten. From blackness to a dark blue to brighter still.

All of a sudden, there was a bright luminosity that engulfed her. She covered her eyes to shield them from the sudden burst of light. When the contrast decreased, she eased her eyes open and saw herself looking at a beautiful scene. It was a castle that looked like it existed only in a dream. It was surrounded by snow that glistened like diamonds as it reflected the light from the sky. The river next to it was frozen, but beautiful. The wierwood that was near the castle looked glorious as the red stood out like blood on pale skin.

In the distance, she heard what sounded to be laughter. At this point, she was sure she was dreaming, but it felt very real. Everything she heard felt like reality. She followed the laughing sound and it brought her to a garden that had no flowers where there was only one child. He was standing in the middle of the field, laughing to himself.

“Hello?” she called softly.

Her greeting caught his attention. He turned around and saw Sansa, wrapped in her cloak to shield herself from the chill. “Hello.” He answered, his smile slowly fading.

“Are you here alone?”

“No. I’m never alone here.”

“Who’s with you?”

“I am. All of the time.”

“So you are alone.” Sansa confirmed.

“Nope. I’m not. I swear it.”

Sansa looked around and saw no one. “I don’t see anyone.”

“When someone is in another room and you don’t see them, does that mean that they’re not there?”

“No.”

The boy smiled, “well then, I’m not alone.”

“I heard you laughing. Why were you laughing just then?”

The boy smiled a bashful one, “I was just thinking about some things.”

Sansa took her time with him. “How old are you?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“I bet I would.”

“Really? Guess then,” he dared playfully.

Sansa couldn’t help but smile at his getty demeanour. “I’m guessing that you’re at least six years old.”

“Wrong.”

“Eight?”

He smiled as he slowly lowered his head and looked the other way. When Sansa attempted to approach him, the boy took hasty steps away from her. “Why did you do that?”

“You can’t come near me. He won’t let you.”

“He? Who is he?”

“I can’t say. Not now.”

“Why? He can’t hear us, can he?”

“He hears everything that I hear. Even you, Sansa.”

Sansa was about to speak when she had a thought, “I never told you my name. How did you know what my name was?” Again, he smiled. “What’s your name?” Sansa wanted to know.

“Guess.”

“There are a thousand names in the world, how am I to guess which one is right?”

“Believe me, you’ll know. I have faith in you.”

The shivering winds blew onto Sansa as the boy just stood there without being fazed by the cold air. “Um,” she began to guess, “I can’t decide what names to try.”

“There are many names to choose from, Sansa. If you get it right, you win the guessing game.”

Sansa stared at the boy with intensity, trying to make out what name his face looked like. But as she looked on, his face became easier. When he smiled, it tugged something on the inside of her. Sansa raised a brow and squinted her eyes. Her face was filled with the expression of wonderment. She then looked into his eyes—his green eyes—and noted his clever and playful smile, “Petyr?” she whispered.

His smile then got brighter. “I have to admit that I didn’t think that you were going to get it right the first time.”

“Petyr.” She said his name again more assuredly. “I don’t understand, where am I?”

“Shh, I can’t tell you.”

“Petyr please tell me…” she walked quickly toward him.

“You have to stay away from me. If you get near me, he’ll try to hurt you.”

“Who is he?”

“Him.”

Sansa continued to try to get a hold of him, “You don’t have to worry about whoever it is I just want to know where I am.”

“Stay where you are, Sansa!” he pleaded, “He won’t let you get near me.”

“Just tell me who he is and I can help you.”

The boy, with glossy eyes—glossy enough to send chills down her spine—pointed behind her. “Over there,” he whispered.

Sansa turned around and her heart sank. She saw the face that she was so accustomed to. He was standing in the corner of the castle, watching with attentive and serious eyes. When he looked in to her eyes and she in his, she could feel a chill settle within her heart. “Lord Baelish.”

“I’m Lord Baelish, Sansa,” said the boy. “That’s littlefinger.”

Sansa could not bring herself to tear her eyes away from him. She seemed to be frozen in one place. Her feet refused to move. Her stare was hard to break. She was looking at the body of pure cunning. Not a bit of light shone in his eyes.

“Get away from him Sansa! And you must keep away from me.”

Finally finding the courage to break her stare, she turned and faced the boy again. When she looked back to Littlefinger, she was startled so much to find him standing closer to her than before that she nearly took a tumble backward.

“Sansa, run!” The boy called.

Sansa turned heel and ran. She knew that she should have been wary of Littlefinger. But that Littlefinger was the scariest she had ever seen. She took off running behind the boy who was also running. Running into a blue-grey brick building with a very dark entrance. When she had gone through the dark alley of the door, another bright light shone in her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagine the child actor Nicolas Betchel as the young Petyr Baelish
> 
>  
> 
>  


	3. There and Back Again

When the light’s rays became more tolerable, she opened her eyes. She raised from the bed quickly and looked around her. To her relief, she found that she was in the same space she was the night before. Her breathing was unsteady. Everything had felt so real.

When she caught sight of the man on the bed, she saw that he had shifted his upward position to a fetal position—faced away from her. She aroused from the chair to get a look at his face. When she did, she saw tiny beads of sweat on his head. Getting closer, she could hear him breathing shivering breaths. She looked at his arms and noted the goosebumps that were forming. She took the blankets and covered him up in hopes of getting him warm.

When Maester Wolkan entered the room with a pan filled with warm water, Sansa asked him almost immediately, “Why is he cold? What’s going on?”

“It’s the shivers, my lady. He’s lost enough blood and has not enough to keep him warm on the inside. He must continue to rest to restore his energy.” The maester sat the water beside his bed alongside the cup still filled with milk of the poppy. He took the piece of cloth that was in the water, squeezed it, and placed it over his head.

Sansa watched attentively before she began speaking, “Have you ever had a dream that felt so real that you became confused with reality, or wondered if you were in a different reality?”

“I do believe so, my lady.”

“Was it ever about someone else that you’ve never seen before, or have but not particularly in that way?”

“I can’t say so, my lady."

Sansa removed the rag that was laid across Petyr’s forehead and placed it into the bowl of warm water. “I had a dream as such last night. I dreamed that I saw my uncle as a child,” she continued to explain as the squeezed the rag and placed in across his head, “I don’t know if I was just imagining if it was how he appeared as a child, but I could see that it was him. He was so young, so innocent-looking, very charming. He wouldn’t let me get near him though. He was frightened and I can imagine why.”

Maester Wolkan stood and listened before adding his idea of a reason, “We all have wishes which are in the form of dreams. Maybe it was an unknown wish that you dreamed of.”

“A wish?” Sansa kept her dubious expression, “I can’t remember myself wishing to see my uncle as a child. I don’t think I ever cared to,” she spoke incredulously soft. She began to softly stroke his hair, half-way unaware of her actions. Maester Wolken could tell that the caress was soft…however it was an unorthodox caress of a niece to an uncle. He dared not say anything or react to anything. He Took the cup filled with milk of the poppy to replace it with a fresher formula. He quickly scurried out of the room after bowing courteously.

Throughout the day Sansa remained in the room, sewing and checking on Petyr. In the middle of the day, after Sansa was brought food by the hand maidens, the movements that Petyr made caught her attention. “Lord Baelish?” she called.

He was constantly writhing under the sheets. As if he was sleep walking, he aroused from the bed with his eyes still closed and attempted to leave the bed. Sansa walked in front of him, “Lord Baelish?” she called again. He did not appear to understand her. His lips were parted, little coos and grunts of nonsense came from between them. It was as if his body was acting on its own without his consciousness active. This confused Sansa very much. She held him by the shoulders and pressed him back down onto the bed.

Instead of propping himself up, he began to roll toward the edge of the bed. Sansa prevented him and turned him back onto his backside. His neck was limp with the weight of his head swaying to and fro atop of the pillow. Still, he continued to mumble nonsense. “Lord Baelish?" She attempted to bring him fully to consciousness once more. Eventually, his movement began to cease. She thought to herself, ‘ _even in his sleep he tries to do things_ ’.

As soon as his body relaxed into the bed, his mumbling turned into an actual word, “Sansa.” He spoke. Sansa’s heart skipped a beat for she could have sworn he was actually speaking to her. She waited for him to say more. Instead, his breathing returned to a slow and steady pace. When she looked at the bandage covering his wound, blood began to spread like a blooming red rose against a field of snow; he had reopened his wound from his short-lived fuss.

Maester Wolkan returned in a timely fashion to re clean, reseal, and rewrap the wound. He left shortly after. After he had gone, Sansa took a minute to ponder if Petyr was thinking about her in his sleep. If so, she wondered what might have been going through his mind.

Once more that night, Sansa passed out into a deep sleep. Again, she found herself engulfed in that strange darkness. She was expecting to come out to the same field of snow; however, once she came into light, she found herself faced with two grand doors on the inside of a dark, fire-lit chamber. There was nothing else there. She stood, lost and confused. Slowly, the door on the left began to creek slowly ajar. She soon saw dark hair atop of a temple slowly emerging from the crack followed by young skin, “Oh, it’s you again.”

“Petyr.” She smiled.

“I didn’t think that I was going to see you again,” he smiled, feeling more confident. “Don’t worry, this is the only place where littlefinger doesn’t care to go. It’s a place of sentimentality. It’s too small for him and he doesn’t like small.”

“You call littlefinger ‘he’ when he’s actually you, but in the future.”

“He’s only a part of me.”

“Which part?”

“I can’t say. I’m not allowed to.”

“Why not? You just said that he didn’t like to come here.”

“He doesn’t. I’m just afraid of what you might do to me if I told you.”

Sansa was really confused now. “Do to you? Like hurt you?” she inquired for him to confirm. He nodded. “Why do you think that I would hurt you?”

“Everyone else has.”

“Everyone?”

“Everyone that I let touch me before.” He removed his cloak and turned away from her so that she may look at his back. Strange enough, his young skin did not look like young skin. In fact, his body appeared to be splintered glass.”

Sansa was slowly catching on, “So you’re afraid that I might break you, is that it?”

He nodded. “I don’t like littlefinger either, but he protects me. Sometimes I hide behind him so he can keep bad people away from me. I suppose he’s bad, but he’s not that bad. He isn’t good either, but it is good for me at times.”

“Well that’s paradoxical don’t you think?”

“It is. But it’s true,” he spoke hopelessly.

Sansa took in a deep breath and blew it out. After a long time, she was able to express solidarity and kindness through her face and eyes, “I won’t hurt you Petyr, I promise.”

“Do you?”

“I do.”

He stood there, childishly wondering what to do. He began to pant hastily, his eyes grew glossy, and he spoke through a quivering voice, “Are you sure you won’t hurt me?”

It was a heartbreaking sight to her. So heartbreaking that she began to weep, “I promise.” Her tears proved to be convincing enough as it subsequently caused Petyr to take a small and bashful step toward her. Sansa herself, slowly moved toward him. She stretched out her hand to him. “I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.”

With only a little distance between them, the boy ran straight into her arms. Sansa, afraid to increase the cracks on his bare back, removed her robe and wrapped him inside of it before wrapping her arms around him. She laid her head on his and moved her fingers through his hair. She felt her heart beating wildly. She felt that it was awkward for her heart to be beating so hard over a child. She assured herself that it was Petyr and that he was no child.

Sansa was caught off guard when the boy dug his fingers through her hair and spoke his next words, “I think you are so beautiful. There was a girl before. She was beautiful but not like you. She was cruel to me,” he uttered softly. “She didn’t care if she dropped me or not. And she did drop me. More than once.”

What he said made sense, however at the same time, it made no sense. “Are you saying that my mother has been in this place with you?”

“Not in this place. Somewhere else. You’re the first person to ever get this far.”

“Tell me, Petyr, what is this place?” she whispered in his ear.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. And even if I could tell you, I wouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

He ended his embrace to look at her in the face, “Because I don’t trust you enough yet. I believe that you won’t hurt me now. But what about in the future? What about when my face changes? When my voice changes? When my height changes?”

Sansa couldn’t understand immediately what he was getting at. She knew exactly how he looked older, but it didn’t mean that she would change just because his features changed. She was about to answer his question when a quake-like feel jolted the room and flickered the flames. “What’s going on?”

“He knows you’re here! And he knows you're near me!”

“Littlefinger?!”

 “Come on,” he grabbed her hand and ran her through to the right side of the door. He and Sansa were running through a long and dark corridor that seemed to bear no end. There were windows in the hall; what was peculiar about them was that the windows had thin bars instilled within them with only darkness on the other side.

The corridor shook and rumbled, threatening to throw off the balance of their furious stride. The dust poured from the ceilings with every quake. “What’s going on?! What happening?”

“He’s trying to get to you! He wants you away from me!”

“Why?!”

“I told you, he protects me from people who may want to hurt me.”

“But I don’t want to hurt you!”

“He doesn’t care. He doesn’t trust you at all!”

Sansa looked behind her and saw the hall quickly collapsing behind them. The cracks were spreading faster and faster, catching up where they were. Sansa shrieked in horror. “Where’s the end!” She panicked, running out of breath, out of hope, and out of time. Finally, there was an opening.


	4. Lies!

Everything went dark and quickly returned to light. The doorway lead to a massive gridiron build with huge building blocks containing a wet appearance and a bluish-green hue. Even amazing still, the fire reflected off of massive thin bars of the same colours in the shape of a dome. Beyond the light-reflecting bars was sheer darkness.

Her stupefaction of the place had come to an end when the boy began to tug on her arm, “We have to get out of here as fast as we can.”

“What is this place? It’s looks like…like a giant bird cage.”

“That’s because it is, but you can’t stop and look now!”

The crack travelled from the corridor and onto the gridiron. The boy and Sansa ran toward the other side, the crack following them profusely. Sansa and the boy came to an abrupt stop when they saw Littlefinger emerging from the other side. His plain and serious frown slowly morphed into that well-known sick, slick and slimy smile.

When Sansa and Petyr attempted to turn back and run, they found themselves surrounded by the crack that seems to have chosen to crack around them. Strangely enough, only a few pieces of the floor had caved in, but not as dramatically as the corridor.

Littlefinger, with a pride-filled gait, approached them arrogantly, “I’ve allowed you into my world, Sansa, but I didn’t permit you to venture thus far.”

Petyr placed Sansa behind him, “She won’t hurt me littlefinger!”

“So you say,” he turned his attention now to the boy. “Have you forgotten what it was like for you before I came along? Have you forgotten how weak and vulnerable you were? Willing to give yourself to first person that came along and let your guard completely unattended.”

The boy began to quiver in fear. He stuttered, trying to find the next words. Littlefinger smiled a snide smile, “As usual. A boy who still believes he can slay titans without wit. I’ll tell you again now that it seems you have forgotten. It has been such a long time that I’ve lectured you. Everyone is not as they appear. They could be seen as the most graceful spirit in Westeros. Everyone has some evil about them. An evil that attacks the most sensitive places within another. Human nature it is.”

Sansa stepped forth and challenged him, “That’s a lie!”

“Is it? You once thought knights could do no trickery as it, as you put it, had no honour in it. A lie. You also thought that it was a good idea to pledge your love to Joffrey. He was a Prince like all the princes in the tales. Also a lie. How many times have you fallen victim to the world around you? Predators waiting to claw their way into your heart, and break everything within you? If I say so myself, Ramsey Bolton was one of those monsters.”

“Yes, he was one of those monsters! Joffrey was one of those monsters and many other people were monstrous to me! But what’s so ironic is that none of them were able to able to breech my heart. My heart was actually breeched by someone who I thought cared about me! Say what you want, but people you know hate you can never do as much damages as those who you think should have loved you. It’s crazy isn’t it?”

Littlefinger enjoyed this. Sansa was able to refute everything he had said. “Well said. Petyr once thought that Catlyn Tully, a cut-throat of a woman, actually loved him or should have. Then he made a fool of himself.”

“My mother was no cut-throat!”

“Sure she was.”

“You’re lying!”

“Am I? Why don’t you tell her, Petyr. Why don’t you tell our dear beloved Sansa how you were lead to believe in the voyage of love that brought you to a road of despair. Tell her how you fought for a woman and nearly died for her without her so much as leaving behind a word of gratitude.”

“Don’t listen to him Petyr!” When she looked at the boy, she saw that he began to cry hysterically. Littlefinger stood there, laughing. Sansa placed her hands on his shoulder, “Petyr, look at me. What’s wrong?”

Littlefinger spoke before the boy, “How long before you relive a moment of déjà vu where you’d find yourself being scarred once again by a woman who you believe loves you?”

At his words, Petyr began to regress from Sansa. “Petyr, don’t listen to him. He’s lying!”

Petyr looked at her with a flushed face, “He’s right.” He turned away from her and ran.

Sansa tried to get a grip of him, but he was too quick, “Petyr, Wait!”

As she attempted to run, she felt her arm being pulled back. Littlefinger had her within his grasp. “As for you,” he began in his beguiling Littlefinger voice, “you know already, what I want. I’m not letting you near the boy until you first give me what I want.”

Sansa spat in his face, “You’ll never have me, not as long as I live,” she grimaced as she struggled in his grip.

“I didn’t say that I wanted you, little dove. I want your heart. And you’ll be rewarded with the boy.”

“How can I be rewarded with the boy after you’ve lied to him! You don’t care about him you only care about yourself!”

Finally managing to weasel her way out of his grip, she turned to run as fast as she could. Littlefinger pursued her. The cracks on the ground remain undisturbed as they darted across the gridiron of the giant bird cage.

Sansa ran through the same door as the boy and came into a room with a long hall lined with active hearths—at least 14 hearths on each side. The fire was blazing and the room was hot. The roaring flames threatened to burn her. For her own safety, she continued to run. Little finger managed to catch up to her and grabbed her by the hair to slow her down. Sansa tried to fight against him, but his body withstood her attacks.

He grabbed her by the shoulders and moved her against a small space between the hearths that were lined so close together. He grabbed each side of her head and pulled her face to his. He pressed his lips onto hers. Sansa moved her face to the side as best as she could to escape his false embrace. “I want nothing but the best for you,” he spoke with his lips lightly touching her skin, the breath from his mouth and nose cascading down her neck. “I want to give you everything, but first, first….” He said as he pressed his hand to her sternum, “you have to give me all of you.”

In one swift move, he drove the tips of his fingers through her chest. She screamed in agony as she felt his hand invading the inside of her chest cavity. She could feel him reaching for her heart. “It’s painful, I know. But it’ll be over soon. All you have to do is release.”


	5. A Strange Realisation

In reality, Sansa was taken to her own bed by Maester Wolkan. She had been sleeping longer than usual. Jon among others would check on her periodically to make sure that she was okay. To them, she appeared to be dead. Maester Wolkan assured them that she was not since her heart was beating.

“It’s in the middle of the day and she hasn’t awakened yet,” Jon fussed. “Sansa?” he called. “Sansa? Sansa?” he shook her this time, worried. Jon did his best to keep from crying. He shook his head in sorrow. “What’s wrong with her, Maester Wolkan? She was fine just yesterday. You don’t think she was poisoned do you?”

Davos was the next to speak, “I can’t imagine why anyone would want to poison lady Sansa, your grace.”

“If she dies, someone will answer for this crime.”

“If there was a crime.”

Maester Wolkan felt her for a temperature. “She seems perfectly fine, my lords. There’s no fever, no irregular breathing, nothing. A bit pale, she is, but sleeping nonetheless. I’ll remain at her side to make sure she awakens.”

Jon and the other reluctantly acquitted the room. Maester Wolkan covered Sansa gently with the covers. Sansa’s case was entirely new to him. He knew not what else to do other than to wait for Sansa’s sleep to run its course. Maester Wolkan was free to sit and monitor Sansa while the other Maesters tended to Lord Baelish.

When the Maester took a seat beside her, he heard movements coming from her. She moved only a little. She moved her hand over the centre of her chest and displayed a look of minor pain while she slept.

Blood dripped onto the floor in streams. A dark red puddle formed around both the feet of Sansa and Littlefinger. The blood soaked her dress from her chest all the way down to her hem. “Just release,” he repeated. “Everything will be fine.”

“I’ll…I’ll never…give you my heart! Ever!” she struggled through her pain. She grabbed him by his wrist with both of her hands.

“It’s the only way you’ll be able to leave here. It’s a fair bargain. Give me what I want, and I’ll give you what you want.”

“I know you well enough that nothing that comes from you is good or fair. As long as you’re able to benefit from every move you make doesn’t mean that it would benefit me the same way.” She combatted him until she got most of his hand out of her chest.

He didn’t seem to be fighting against her, “So be it. It’ll be nearly impossible to see that boy again,” he removed his hand from her chest. He backed away from her while still smiling. “You’ve only just proved that you’re capable of shattering what’s left of him.”

He entered into one of the hearths flames and proceed to disappear behind them. What he meant by his last words, she didn’t know. Once he had gone, the flames died down to mere glowing embers. Sansa carried on out of the curious room.

On her way out, she heard loud but distant whimpers. “Petyr!” she called. She ran to where the cries were coming from. After a minute of running, she found him cuddled into a corner with his head buried between his knees. “Petyr!” Sansa called to him.

“Stay away from me, Sansa!” He jumped up and scurried away from her.

“What’s wrong?” she was confused. “Listen, what Littlefinger said, it isn’t true…”

“He was right. And you proved it!”

Sansa was now more confused than ever. She attempted to speak, but held back when she heard crackling sounds. She looked at his neck and saw cracks expanding like breaking glass. “I don’t understand.”

“You promised me that you wouldn’t hurt me. You told me that!” He cried ever more vehemently.

“I didn’t hurt you! Petyr, what did I do?”

“You told me that you’ll never give me your heart.”

“That’s not true. I told that to Littlefinger. You told me that you weren’t the same person.”

“We’re not the same person in personality, but he’s still a part of me. We’re the same person in body and you told me that you wouldn’t give me your heart. I should have never trusted you.”

Sansa felt her own heart breaking. She knew he was a delicate thing, but she had not realized how delicate he was. Now that she knew that they were the same in body, she wondered how she would escape from Littlefinger now that she learned that whatever she told to Littlefinger affected Petyr. Sansa attempted to near him again. “I’m so sorry, Petyr. I didn’t know, honestly!” she begged.

Petyr was too distraught and once again ran away from her. “Petyr, wait!” She called. She soon screamed in frustration. “It’s just a dream, I know it is! Just wake up! Wake up!” she urged herself. She just knew that when she opened her eyes she was going to wake up in Winterfell. When she did, she saw a pair of shoes on the ground. She raised both her head and her gaze and found herself standing face-to-face with Littlefinger, smiling that smug smile of his, “Not everything I say is a total lie,” he began. “I told him that I would get him your heart without you first breaking him like someone so similar to you has done before. It doesn’t appear likely that he will get his wish.”

Sansa was caught in a dilemma. She wanted to be rid of Littefinger, but she wanted to save Petyr also. How she would do this, she did not know. She began to first weigh her options and take her time. “If I give you my heart, will you give it to Petyr?”

“I will,” he answered swiftly.

Sansa knew he was lying. She could tell by his darkened eyes. “How do I know you won’t take all of it for yourself?”

“Petyr is part of me still. He would be getting what I’m getting.”

“Only you taint things. If I give you a heart full of hatred, which is what I have for…Littlefinger,” she was more careful with her pronouns now, “then my hatred can spread to him too.”

“You learn fast, Sansa. It’s one of the many reasons why I find you so alluring. In case you haven’t noticed, I can’t really take your heart without you first surrendering it to me.”

“If you knew that, why would you try to take it?”

Littlefinger smiled and looked off in another direction. He inhaled out loud before he turned back to her, “I suppose that’s something else you’re going to have to learn.”

Sansa began to think rapidly. “Fine, I’ll give you my heart. But only in the name of Petyr.”

Littlefinger smile. “Excellent. You’d be pleasing us all. Everyone getting what they want.” He Approached her at a moderate speed. Again he laid his hand on her chest before sliding his hand through her chest.

It was painful, but she did not let the pain hinder her from doing what she had planned. Figuring that anything can happen in that place, she took a chance and drove her hand through his chest. He grimaced in pain as well as shock when she did. “If you want my heart, you’re going to have to give me yours first!”


	6. Illusions

She felt around on the inside of him and felt not a pulse. Even his blood was cold like ice. He began to giggle mockingly, “I have your heart in my hand, but you’re nowhere near mine.”

Sansa scowled herself for being foolish enough to think that a heartless man had a heart. Aside from her feeling daft, she struggled as he began to tug more onto her heart. This time, he was winning what she had offered.

Feeling like she had lost, she began to cry, “Petyr! Wherever you are, if you can hear me, I want you to know that I care about you and that I would never hurt you!”

“Why are you so confident that he will believe you?”

Sansa ignored him, “I told you that I wouldn’t give you my heart and I’m sorry! Well, I’m giving it to you, not to Littlefinger!”

“This is quite an obvious scene, Sansa. You can’t help but to hate me as I hold your heart in my hands. I can feel the hate inside of you for me. This hate, will destroy Petyr if I give it to him!”

All at once, she was enlightened by his words. Her eyes shot wide open with new wisdom. Littlefinger saw the look she gave and the grin was soon diminished. Sansa broke away from him before he could take her heart completely. She struck Littlefinger across the face and broke into a run.

As she ran, she thought to herself, _I know why he wants my heart. I know why he doesn’t want me near Petyr. He wants my heart to break Petyr. I noticed that my harsh words made Petyr crack. If my heart is filled with hate and Littlefinger give it to Petyr, it can destroy the boy in him and Littlefinger would be all that remains. He has no heart. Petyr has more heart than he does and he doesn’t like that…_

It was in this thought where she had another epiphany. She later entered into the same room where the gridiron was. This time, the floors began to fall apart. Petyr was on the other side, moping in agony. “Petyr!” she called.

He was just about to run when Sansa began to speak to him, “I know why he wants to keep me away from you! He’s been lying to you this whole time! He doesn’t want to protect you from me, he wants me to break you! I’m the only one who can do that!”

“How?”

“Do you remember when I told you the irony of someone who loves you breaking your heart is far worse than someone who hates you?”

He nodded quickly.

“You loved my mother, Petyr. But she broke you! Littlefinger came along later. He’s selfish and cruel but as long as you're around, he cannot become as ruthless. You’re the one who guides his conscience. It’s because of you that he is merciful at times. You can’t let him win!”

“Sansa!”

Sansa whirled around to that familiar voice that she had always craved to hear. “Mother?”

“Yes, Sansa. Listen to me. I know that I’ve caused damage to that poor young boy, and I’m sorry. But you’re wrong. Petyr is a very delicate boy and he needs to be protected. He’s been able to survive this long with the help of Littlefinger. You’ll only make things worst if you tell him things that you don’t understand.”

Sansa would have bought into this act if it didn’t appear to be so farfetched. “You…you’re dead. You’re not my mother.”

“I am, Sansa. Come with me. Feel my presence and you’ll see. Come sweetling, listen to your mother. I would never lie to my own daughter. It is not honourable for a mother to lie to her child.”

Sansa’s attention oddly focused on their surroundings. She took note of the bird cage-like room and thought about Littlefinger as a person in general. “A mocking bird,” she whispered. She then looked at her mother with devious eyes, “You’re a mockingbird! You’re not my mother, you’re only chirping her song! Come out and face me you coward!”

Catlyn ceased what she was doing and relaxed into a straighter stance. The body of her mother soon morphed into Littlefinger. “You’re a very clever woman, Sansa. You prove it all the time. Show me that you’re clever enough to understand that I want to protect the boy.”

“To give him my heart filled with hate is not helping him. I thought you had no heart, but I was wrong! Petyr is your heart!”

Out of nowhere, flames burst from beneath the shattering floors. It spread all around them and illuminated the once blue-green hue into a bright orange. The fire brought a lively golden appearance to the bars that stretched so far ahead above and over them. The darkness beyond the cage begin to lighten into images. The vibration of the cage sent out a deafening loud ring. Both Sansa and Petyr covered their ears as Littlefinger stood in the flames unscathed and unfazed. The images that was being shown was that of a boy fawning after a young girl older than him. Another image was that of a teen-aged boy fighting against a man much larger than himself. The images that continued were filled with nothing but dread.

“Look and behold what you’d be repeating, Petyr! Is that what you want? You let her into you completely and you’ll be destroyed for good. I would have given her a piece of you in exchange for her heart! Everyone would have been happy!”

Sansa saw that the images upset the boy. The cloak she had given him was still around him. She battled against the deafening sound and made her way over to him, avoiding the flames all the same. The sound, she learned, was loud enough to prevent him from hearing her words of truth. She took the cloak and wrapped it over his head before shielding him with her body. She rubbed his head softly and consoled him. Littlefinger was outraged at this. The sound soon stopped as did the images. Petyr and Sansa were able to hear each other again.

Littlefinger proceeded to allow the cracked gridiron to fall. Sansa removed herself from Petyr to try to stop Littlefinger. When she was a distance away from the boy, the floor beneath him had fallen. He shrieked as he grabbed onto the edge of the plane, “Sansa!”

“Petyr!” She tried to run back to him but was once again caught by Littlefinger. The quakes—more violent this time, threw them both to the ground. Littlefinger didn’t miss the opportunity to slither his way over to Sansa before she made it off of her back. She tried to roll over to her stomach but he rolled her right back into a supine position and got atop of her. She blocked her chest as she knew his intentions.

“I only want your heart so I can keep safe here with Petyr. He’ll have some company at last and I will have fulfilled my promise.”

“You only want what you want. You don’t care about Petyr or me.”

“But I do. I do care for you, Sansa. I want to make you happy,” he grunted out as he tried to break through her defence.

In reality, Sansa was sweating profusely in the middle of the night. She began to move about with distressful movements. Maester Wolkan did his best to calm her. Jon and Davos entered into the room to see what was going on. When they saw Sansa struggling in her sleep, they tried in vain to awaken her. Her movements of distress soon turned violent. She began to kick and scream. They all witness her holding onto her chest.


	7. The Confession

In the belly of the crumbling bird cage, another violent quake gave Sansa the opportunity to shove Littlefinger off of her. As fast as she could, she jumped to her feet and ran to the boy who was hanging off the edge. She threw herself to the near edge of the wet bricks and stretched out her arm, “Petyr, give me your hand!”

“I’m scared!”

“You don’t have to be! I love you Petyr! I’ve loved for a while now and I won’t leave you here! I refuse to leave you here!” Sansa reached for him and grabbed his hand. Altogether, the cracks began to heal. She finally figured out that by telling Petyr himself how she felt, she could avoid hurting him and help him at the same time. The secret was to ignore Littlefinger completely and not to feed into his illusions.

Littlefinger attempted to get Sansa away from Petyr. All at once, the floor beneath his foundation began to crumble. The bars of the cage started to twist like deformed metal and screeched as they did so.

Petyr looked at Sansa who was having a hard time pulling him back onto the surface, “Sansa. Sansa, look at me.” He spoke gently even in the crisis they faced. Sansa did as he commanded, “I love you too. I love you so much and I don’t want you to get hurt. You get out of here as fast as you can. Leave me here.”

“I won’t leave you Petyr.” A tear escaped her eye.

“Don’t worry. I’m used to catching myself when I fall. I’ll catch myself this time too.”

“I’m not going to let you fall!”

“If you don’t let me go, you’re going to fall too. I’ll be fine on my own. Trust me.”

“You won’t be fine on your own. You’ve been on your own for too long and I would be the worst person in the world if I let you keep being by yourself!” Petyr couldn’t help but to cry at her lament. Sansa continued through trembling lips, “If you fall, I’m going to fall right beside you! I promised I wouldn’t hurt you and I’m going to keep my promise.”

With a jerk, the stones beneath them deteriorated. Both Sansa and Petyr screamed as they fell into the darkness that engulfed everything around them. As they fell endlessly, Sansa was unable to see anything. But one thing she knew for sure is that she held onto Petyr's hand as tight as she could. Within the space where no gravity existed, she pulled him closer to her and grabbed him tightly, "No matter how dark it gets. No matter how scary it is, you can always come to me." Soon, she felt nothing more. The shaking ceased in the cage and Littlefinger managed to pull himself up. As if nothing happened, the cage returned to its former structure. He stood in the centre of the cage, alone.

She felt a soothing breeze wash over her. When she opened her eyes, she opened them to a soft light. The skies above her contained grey, icy clouds that looked like pillows. The end of her fingertips were cold from the snow that she lied upon. Looking over to her left, she spotted the weirwood tree. The location looked very familiar to her.

She was now coherent enough to hear crunching in the snow. When she turned her head to the right, she saw the hand of a man stretched out to her. She looked further right to see Petyr offering his hand to her. “Don’t worry, I’m not littlefinger,” he spoke in his wonted gruff tone; however, his voice was much more delicate this time. She looked into his eyes and did not see a hint of grey. She knew for sure she was looking at Petyr.

Sansa took his hand and he help her up, “What happened?” as soon as she had asked, snow began to lightly fall.

“I’m finally out of that cage. While I respected Littlefinger enough, I allowed him too much control. So much control that I allowed him to use me whenever he needed to in the ways that he wanted. It’s paradoxical really. I knew he wanted to hurt me, but I also knew that he wouldn’t allow just anyone to hurt me. He was right when he said that he was the reason why I’ve made it this far. I have no regrets really.”

“Why not?” Sansa asked in a delicate voice, “Why would you not regret this? He could have hurt you.”

“No, he couldn’t have. At least not with himself anyway. He needed you for that. Even so, I don’t regret it because his everlasting patience prevented me from running away with my feelings. I was guarded away from everyone and was detained from letting anyone in. I’m grateful for it because it gave me enough patience to wait for someone I knew I could truly love,” he said as he looked at her. He placed his hands gently on each side of her cheeks, “Although I gave him much control over me, I had control over him also, only a little. I wouldn’t have let him hurt you. If only I had been strong enough, you wouldn’t have been.”

Sansa knew she was with Petyr. All at once, she could see that same desire in his eyes. “I forgive you, Petyr,” she whispered.

He smiled. For once, Sansa met him halfway to bring their faces close to each other. They shared a mutually passionate kiss. It could have lasted forever if Petyr did not softly break the kiss, “This is but a dream, Sansa. Nothing that happened here is real.”

Sansa knew this already, “No, it wasn’t. But the truth that happened here is very much real. I understand you now. I understand why it’s so hard for you to feel. I know why it’s so hard for you to show some kind of emotion of sincerity toward me. This dream has helped me learn how to face Littlefinger in the real world.”

Petyr released her and took a few steps back, “Littlefinger is still here as he is nevertheless a part of me. He’s in that dark place alone now in his cage. I still need him, only I need to be more in control. To use him where it is necessary. I'm sure you'll come to understand that. Until then, I’ll see you soon, my love.”

Everything began to fade. Sansa did not want to leave but she knew she had to. She wanted to remain dreaming. Stay watching the genuine face of the man she was so confused about before. Alas, she knew it was not the right thing to do.


	8. LittleFinger

When she opened her eyes, she saw herself staring at a stone ceiling. She felt herself in the bed lying faced up. Her lips were chapped and her mouth was dry. She brought her hand to her forehead and felt a rag that was lying there. She removed it and sat herself up. Her stomach growled with a vengeance as she stretched her arms. She felt more stiff than she usually did in the morning.

Gathering her thoughts, she looked over toward the door and Saw Jon asleep in the corner. Turning to the other side of her, she found Maester Wolkan also asleep. She realised that she was back in Winterfell once she was able to think more clearly.

It was before long when Maester Wolkan opened his eyes and found her awake, “Lady Sansa!” he exclaimed.

His felicity acted as an alarm to Jon who then woke up to see Sansa sitting in bed. “Sansa!” Both men tended to the pale young woman, “What happened?” Jon asked.

“What do you mean what happened?” Sansa wondered.

“You were sleeping for a whole day and night. I thought you might have been poisoned. We all thought you were going to die.”

“It’s true, my lady,” Wolkan vowed.

Sansa couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “I was just...dreaming.”

“You sure you were dreaming? It looked more like you were having a nightmare. You started fighting in your sleep it seems like. I don’t know who it was you were fighting but you managed to kick one of the maesters in the face,” he giggled.

“How is Lord Baelish?” She asked abruptly.

Maester Wolkan answered her question, “He woke up last night. I tried to give him milk of the poppy, but he refused.”

“Where is he now?”

“Sleeping, I would suppose.”

“Nonsense. He doesn’t sleep long. He tried to get up while he was still sleeping I can’t imagine him being conscious now and lying in one place. He never stays in one place.”

Sansa begged to be left along for a moment to which her wish was granted. She thought about her otherworldly adventure and couldn’t help but think about the boy who was entrapped within himself. She hoped that she would be able to reach the boy within the man in her reality. After a rather pensive moment to herself, she placed a shawl around her shoulders and walked about the castle grounds. She was too nervous to go and visit him for fear that she may allow herself to be vulnerable to him before it was time to be.

Littlefinger, she learned, refused to give up a piece of himself before she did. She could not let the happen as it would only give him even more power. In order for her to reach Petyr, she would have to reach into his past and put forth her own pain. To get him to open and reveal himself would work the same as medicine; the cure was sometimes worse than the illness. It was a morbid thought, but a plan that had to work.

As soon as she concluded her plan of action, her heart skipped a beat when she saw Lord Baelish standing on the steps where he was injured. He appeared to be looking into the abyss as he did not take notice of her right away. When he did, he greetedher with a tired voice and heavy eyes, “Lady Sansa.”

“You shouldn’t be here. Getting better would be impossible if you keep moving around.”

“I won’t be feeling any better if I sit still.”

“Why is that?” she asked, trying not to sound too soft. Trying not to see the boy in him screaming for help behind his eyes.

“If things are at a standstill, nothing gets done. Opportunities are missed, never to return.”

Sansa knew she was talking to Littefinger. Now, it was her chance to ask. “How did you get that scar on your chest?”

Littlefinger’s face dropped. All the while, he remained in eye contact with her, “A story for another time, perhaps.”

She bothered not to say more. Her dream allowed her to see in that moment that Littlefinger was preventing her from getting too close to Petyr. She promised him before that she was not going to leave him. Dream or no dream, she would aid him.

Lord Baelish straightened himself up and made himself look as presentable as possible aside from the pain. “The Lannister army will be on their way soon,” he began again. “They’ll want a bargain for my head…and yours. But even if we give Cersei what she wants, it will never appease her. She’s lost everything and has nothing else to gain…nothing else to lose.”

“What do you suppose we do about that?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

He shook his head slowly, “Nothing.”

“What are we to achieve by doing nothing?”

“Going to war with the Lannisters under these circumstances can work favourably against us. If we play it right, we’ll be able to do more than have men mindlessly slaughtering men. High Garden plays an important role in my plan.”

Sansa grew tired of hearing his plans in the most tender of moments. She appreciated his thoughts put into everything, but she wasn’t looking forward to being political with him as of yet. But it was what to be expected of Littlefinger. Concerned with nothing else other than opportunity and action. She rolled her eyes and turned her back to him, “You should get some rest, _Littlefinger_ ,” she emphasized his name.

Lord Baelish stood there, wondering why she had appeared upset after hinting to her of a great alternative to battle. A solution that could help spare many lives as well as save time, effort, and money.

Sansa was soon back in her room, furiously sewing. She was angry but she could not let him know how angry she was. She was soon tranquil again when she heard the voice of the boy in her head telling her that he loved her. “I can get that again,” she whispered to herself. “I just have to be patient and find the right time and moment.”


	9. The Confrontation

Sansa was to attend the meeting with her brother and the others. She was not too amused concerning the battle plans they wanted to put into fruition. Why would she care after she was given an alternative? The meeting dragged on all day. During the whole time, Petyr was not present as he was in his chambers being tendered to by the maesters. Just before the meeting ended, she slipped out of the room and met with a handmaiden in the halls, “If anyone asks where I am, I’m bathing and am not to be disturbed.”

“Yes my lady.”

Sansa continued to her destination. Her stomach had butterflies as she approached the room where he was. She knocked a few times and the door was opened by Maester Wolkan. Sansa spoke before he could, “I need to speak with my uncle, alone.”

“Yes.”

The master eased out of the room and away from the door. Sansa entered to find Petyr writing at his study with a candle lit right beside him. Sansa did not try to hide her presence. Lord Baelish knew she was there and turned to face her with a half-grin on his face, “Have you come to inquire about the next move?”

“I’ve come to ask about your scar.”

His face fell for the second time; however, not as much as the first time. “Surely the story can wait….”

“I want to know now. And I’m not leaving until you tell me," she spoke as she closed the door. "How did you get that scar?”

Lord Baelish raised from his seat slowly. He interlaced his fingers above his pelvic area. He hesitated before he spoke words low and soft, “It happened a long time ago. I was young and naïve.” He stood pensive for a moment before he turned away from Sansa.

“I want to see your face when you tell me,” she told him.

Lord Baelish hesitantly complied with her command, “Surely you’re familiar with my childish affections for Catelyn Stark. As you know those affections were not mutually shared.” He didn’t seem at all hurt by the memory as he narrated. “It is said that people do silly things…foolish things when seeking love from another. And foolish I was.”

Sansa paid attention to the aura he emitted as well as imagining herself speaking with the boy. She could indeed see the boy telling his side of the story only except in the form of a man. It was the first time she and Petyr had a non-political discussion since she was first brought to Winterfell. She cherished the emotional side of him more than his more stoic and relentless side. After a while of narration, Petyr concluded the rest of the story.

“It wasn’t until the final stroke,” he drew onto the line of his scar with his finger, “that I came to understand that the world that I thought was just...didn’t exist. The purest of hearts did not always triumph over those with ill-will or brutality.”

Sansa took his words to heart. Feeling sheepish about relying on her dreams of what she learned of him, she decided to ask if there was more to the story, “Was that all that happened to you at Riverrun?”

Again, Petyr blew a heavy breath and cast his look in a different direction. “There were other things,” he broke off in obscurity.

Sansa wanted to press on, but she was afraid that she would lose him in his raw form. She knew the only way for her to reach deeper was to make him feel pain. Though it hurt her to think that she would have to make him feel bad, it was the beginning of making him feel something at all. Sentimentality…that’s what he said. Littlefinger hates sentimentality. With that, she could drive him away and have Petyr in that chamber with her alone. She would have to reach for his heart the same way she had once tried to reach through Littlefinger’s, only this Petyr was no dream. His heart was still in his body and she was determined to get to it.

“Your story is pretty sad. But I know a sadder one. What do you want, Lord Baelish?”

It was that question again. The question he made sure she knew the answer to. It was apparent to him that she refused to believe him. “Sansa, I thought we…”

“Oh, that’s right. You want the iron throne. How stupid of me to forget. It’s the centre of your world. Your motivation for everything,” she spoke sardonically.

“That isn’t true,” he spoke a little above a whisper.

“Of course it is.”

“I can assure you that…”

“Go on then, assure me,” she dared. “Tell me what you really want if not the iron throne. I know that I’m not one of those things so let’s try something else.”

“I swear to you…on my life… that I want nothing if you’re not by my side. I only want what you want.”

Sansa only stared at him, raising a brow as she continued to hold her stern expression. “You don’t even know what I want.” She spoke seriously and low.

Petyr, heart racing and heat rising, moved uneasily in the same spot. “I know that you want to be safe. Away from everyone who wants to cause harm to you. You only have but one enemy and then there will be none.”

Sansa sighed a sigh of disbelief. She walked to him in a slow and steady gait. “When we were travelling north to Winterfell and you first told me that I was marrying a Bolton I thought that you had lost your mind. When you explained to me that it was a chance of getting my home you made me feel as though I actually had a chance even though I didn’t want to go.”

Petyr became uneasy at the mention of this past event. He also felt that Sansa might have begun to view him as an enemy. “I regret that, Sansa. I still do and forever will.”

“I know that you regret it. You’ve told me already. But I don’t believe it,” she spoke scornfully. She assured herself that her goal was to dig deep within him. At this moment, her hand was only pressing against his sternum.

“Sansa, you have to…”

“I’m not done talking,” she spoke with a voice laced with venom and authority. She continued, “When you told me you were leaving for King’s Landing you told me that wouldn’t be long. And while I waited I endured the worst treatment of my life. I’m sure you already have many ideas of what could have been done to me. And whatever ideas you have that’s exactly what happened.”

“I didn’t mean to take long,” Petyr spoke solemnly.

Sansa disregarded what he said. “The pain that I felt was horrible. It created marks on my body and weighed heavily on me. I was broken.”

Petyr stretch his lips downward in disappointment with himself. His mouth was agape but no words came through. He breathed heavily at the sound of Sansa’s last three words. “I didn’t mean for that to happen to you.”

Sansa sighed again, however in a humourless laughter. “You’d be a fool to believe that Ramsay was the one who broke me. Surely he inflicted a lot of pain upon me but he never broke me. He was nowhere near to breaking me. I was already used to being beaten, humiliated, held captive, and in a vulnerable sate. None of that was new to me save for the fact that he ravaged my body. Even still…it wasn’t enough to break me. Yes, I cried and I wept and I screamed and I was miserable,” she paused a while before continuing as she looked into Petyr’s pale green eyes, “But none of that was because of Ramsay. I wouldn’t have dared given him the satisfaction that it was he who made me cry every night. I felt that way because of you.”

Petyr was saddened true enough, but he was also at a loss, “I understand that you expected me to be there. I wanted to make up for everything by…”

“You broke me, Petyr!” she intervened, calling him by his name without him asking. “Of all the things that has happened to me, you were the one broke me. No, I take it back, you shattered me. Even now I’m still not altogether because of you!”

Petyr could not understand where Sansa was coming from. Surely he had apologised for everything before, but apparently it was to no avail. “If I have to say it again and for the rest of my life, I will. I am so sorry. I tried to get back to you as fast as I could. So many things were happening at once that it impeded my return.”

“Rather you returned sooner or not, you just refuse to give me what I want!”


	10. I want...

Petyr never had such a hard time trying to decipher what it was anyone wanted. With Sansa, he couldn't begin to guess what it was she was after when she had nearly everything there was. “You’re safe here. Safe in your home. Safe with your brother, the Vale, and the men of the North. I’m giving you a chance to end the last of your remaining enemies. At this point, I have nothing else to give. I don’t know what else I can do to make up for what I’ve done.”

“You do have something else you can give. And you will find out. As a matter of fact, you should have already figured out what I was trying to tell you before.”

“I don’t know what else to give,” Petyr cracked, still in the same underlying voice. His heart began to beat quickly.

Sansa waited a minute. “After the Battle with the Boltons you came to me in the Godswood and told me what your idea of a picture was. That picture was only good enough for you, just like everything else as long as it benefits you.”

“I’ll give it all up. I’ll give everything that I have to you. You’ll have everything,” he pleaded.

“No!” she shouted, “I would not have everything! You may think that I will, but I won’t. You never gave me what I wanted. Not in winterfell, not in Mole’s town, not even here!”

“Please,” he begged, his voice still cracking. “I really don’t know what else I can give. I’ve offered you my heart at a time, but you didn’t want it,” this response hurt him more than the dagger that had pierced his abdomen. His heart was beating wilder now. Much quicker than before.

Sansa expressed annoyance as well as anger. And she spoke in disgust, “You never gave me your heart, you gave me an idea! I don’t want your ideas,” she steamed.

“The idea has changed. You’ve been bequeathed with the things that you’ve asked. I won’t be in that picture, if that is what you desire.”

“For the smartest man in Westeros you sure are stupid! You are so, so stupid! Even after everything I’ve told you, you still don’t seem to realise that I don’t care about rank, money, wealth, power, or any of it! You go on and on about what you have given me, what you will give me, and what you’ve helped me gain. And then you tell me that you’ll leave the picture in an attempt to bring me satisfaction?”

Petyr was becoming frustrated as well. He was suffering internally from the enigma that Sansa had surrounded him in. Yet and still, he retained his calm tone only except his voice cracked even more this time. “I thought that was what you wanted. Satisfaction.”

“I do, but you’re not giving me what I want!”

“Tell me, please. What do you want?” he spoke as he walked closer to her.

Sansa stood her ground and looked at him gravely in the eyes, “I’ve been pushed and pulled in every direction by others in pursuit of my hand. Always, someone had something to gain from marrying me. What makes you different from them? Do you think you differ by coming to my aid, or telling me things that you think I may want to hear? If that was what you thought, you’re wrong! Show me that you’re different!” she raised her voice by a little.

“I don’t know how,” he pleaded earnestly. He felt his heart, heavily and painfully pounding, was going to burst through his chest. The pain from it tempted to suffocate him.

“Show me!” she shouted now.

“I don’t know…”

“Show Me!”

“Sansa, I…” he cracked even more.

This time, Sansa struck him across his face. Baelish fell to his knees in submission while holding his face. Sansa gripped his shoulders and shook him vigorously, “SHOW ME!” she screamed and jerked him back and forth, her throat tightening, “If you really feel the way you say you feel, then show me. Show me! Make me believe you!”

“I don’t know how, Sansa!” he yelled in retaliation. Both he and Sansa were breathing vehemently. “I’ve done all I could do!” his tone had risen. “You have your home! Your brother! Potentially High Garden! Everything!” his voice cracked ever more to the point it was dry-sounding. He continued as he breathed heavily and rapidly, now able to ignore that pain in his abdomen. He continued with a more even tone; slow, but not without lament, “I’ve told you that I was sorry so many times. I don’t have anything else left to give.” His lips trembled. Sansa looked at him with intensity as her eyes began to become glossy. He proceeded, “You tell me that I can give you what you want yet you deny everything. What else can I do?”

Just then, a tear, a genuine and solemn tear…escaped the eye of Baelish. Tears rolled down Sansa’s cheeks soon after. Baelish couldn’t muster enough strength to speak his next words but did so anyway. His voice was weak and inaudible, but was understood all the same, “I would give you anything that you want. But I don’t know what you want. And I don’t know what it is you would like for me to show,” his trembling voice overpowered his once steady tone.

 Sansa, still gripping his shoulders, came unto her knees so that she could see eye-to-eye with him. “After everything that I told you, you still don’t understand, do you? What do you want Baelish?” she asked one final time.

Baelish stared at her for a long while before he answered in a broken whisper, “I want you. But I now know that I can never have you. Even if I have nothing else, all I wanted was your heart.”

“So you truly don’t understand,” her words trembled in her throat, “you don’t realise it but you’ve already had my heart. You’ve had my heart before we left the Vale,” she confessed.

Baelish was now baffled. He furrowed his brows in perplexity. “I don’t…”

“You broke my heart!” These were the trigger words that made her release tears like never before. “No one else in the seven kingdoms could hurt me like you hurt me because I trusted you! I believed in you! I loved you. I waited for you! Every time Ramsay held a fist to me I would ask myself the same questions over and over again, ‘where is he?’ ‘where is he?’ ‘where is he?’ ‘Why did he leave me here alone?!’ It was the only thing on my mind at all times! Every day! Every night! I lost hope with each passing second! And pieces of me went with it!”

 This revelation gave Petyr some hope. “Tell me, what can I do to atone for what I’ve done?” he asked hastily, “What can I do? Tell me you want, please,” he pleaded as he gripped her shoulders. “I’m begging you. I beg you!”

“I wanted these!” she exclaimed emotionally. She took her thumb and rubbed underneath his eyes. “I wanted your tears to show me that you cared. I cried every time someone had hurt me or my family. And when I cried, everyone just gave me a pat on the shoulder and said the same thing over and over again, ‘you poor girl…you poor girl. Poor Sansa Stark. She’s a delicate little dove.’ Everyone pitied me, but no one ever cried for me!”

Petyr could hear the hurt and ailment in her voice. He understood that pain all too well. To know that he was the reason she felt that way cut deeper than the dagger that pierced him. Evermore, it felt like flames rushing through his veins. He was overcome with a huge plume of remorse and emotion.

Sansa continued, “I wanted to see you at Mole’s town because I wanted to do what you had done to me. I wanted to see you break over me. To see you hurt because of the choice you made. But you didn’t. You just stood there, apologising at a distance. And not once had it ever occurred to you that I might have been in dire need of some kind of affection! No, instead you talk about Winterfell! Every time I talked to you everything was always about Winterfell. Yes, I wanted my home back. But what I wanted,” she trembled even more and gripped his shoulders tighter, “what I wanted more than anything else was for you to show me that you were not like everyone else. I didn’t want you to pity me, I wanted you to cry for me.” She began to weep hysterically.

 Baelish threw his arms around her and pulled her into him. His breathing was rapid. “You have no idea, how much that decision killed me on the inside. I would never forgive myself for what’s happened to you. Every day I wish I could go back and change things, but I know that I can’t. The only option that I have is to move on to the future and try to make amends. And whatever you ask of me, I’ll do it,” his grip around her had become tighter. “I love you Sansa. Above everything else. I’ll never choose anything over you again. I swear on everything that I hold dear.”

Sansa felt a gust of wind leave her lungs as her figure was constricted by Petyr’s arms. She buried her face in his shoulders as she cried. Her arms moved around him also. She hugged him as tight as she could, almost as if she refused to let him go. She began to calm after a long while. The warmth that she felt emitting from his neck made her feel safe, and the beating of his heart that she felt against hers made her feel secure. That was Petyr. She was sure of it. She congratulated herself of finally being able to reach him. She dug her hands through his hair the same way she did to the child in her dreams.

Though she said these words to herself, Petyr heard her strange words, “I told you I would keep my promise. And I knew you could overcome that miserable bird in the cage.”

Before Petyr could try to think on it, he felt Sansa release her grip. Afterward, she pulled his face to her and kissed him the same way she did in her dreams. Petyr disregarded what she had just said and helped to deepen the kiss. It was a comfort to Sansa that she was kissing the man she wanted to. Only this time, it was real.


End file.
